Like a Mirror
by LunaMoth116
Summary: "And in our travels/We found our roads/You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose." Olivia Cousland thought no one could understand her pain and regret as a cast-out noble driven by one thing: revenge. Anais Aeducan thought the same – until a chance meeting. AU; F!Cousland/F!Aeducan friendship, background F!Aeducan/Alistair.


_Olivia Cousland was my very first Warden (I admit, strictly because I wanted the "Queen Cousland" ending :P), and you never forget your first. ;) While talking with Stef about multi-origin stories_ , _we started discussing the similarities between Cousland and Aeducan, and she suggested a brilliant idea for a meeting of the two. So…here we are. :) Dedicated, of course, to her, because like these two, all we ever need is a time and a place to talk. Here's hoping that never changes. ^_^_

 _Though Anais also stars in "Liquid Crystals" and "Where Stone Meets Steel" (with Alistair), neither is required reading to enjoy this one — though if you do, why not give the others a try? :)_

 _And for the curious/fellow nerds – yes, Dog's name is indeed a nod to another great RPG. Can you just imagine that protagonist in this world? (Certainly at least a few far more talented people have…) Thank you for reading!_

 **Disclaimer:** _If I owned_ Dragon Age _, I would be a happy woman. Well, I am, but for completely unrelated reasons. ;)_

* * *

" _Dear fellow traveler_

 _Under the moon_

 _I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue_

 _You put your hand out_

 _Opened the door_

 _You said come with me, boy, I want to show you something more_

 _You spoke my language_

 _And touched my limbs_

 _It wasn't difficult_

 _To pull me from myself again_

 _And in our travels_

 _We found our roads_

 _You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose."_

 _~ "Dear Fellow Traveler", Sea Wolf_

 _Thwack!_

As metal ripped through cloth, there was the sound of something heavy dropping softly to the ground. Straw spilled from the dummy's head as it rolled in the grass, then lay still.

Tired, sweat-soaked, and short of breath, Olivia finally lowered her sword and shield, dropping them both to the grass.

She looked up briefly, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. The day had started out clear, bright, and sunny, but as time had passed it had gradually become grey, cloudy, and windy. A storm was expected that night, possibly even late afternoon.

Which meant she had to get in all the practice she could right now. She exhaled, then retrieved her sword and shield, turning to the next dummy and assuming the stance.

 _Move and parry, strike and kill. Just the way she taught you…_

 _Father's flame-haired little spitfire…_

She shut her eyes momentarily, pushing aside the stab of pain that came with that thought. She couldn't think about her mother, or father, or anyone who had helped her become the person she was today. All of them were gone. She'd barely had a chance to say goodbye, in the case of her parents, or no chance at all, for everyone else. And if she were lucky enough to avenge them, that would be her only reward, if you could call it that. She already knew she'd have no grave to visit, no memorial at which to mourn.

Looking at the manor house to her right, she bit her lip, fighting back tears. Some noble's abandoned country estate, surrounded by fields and forest, was of course far better to stay in than any tent or roadside tavern, but paled in comparison to the castle she'd grown up in. It was a place for her to sleep, to eat, to take shelter, but it wasn't a real home. Still, it had done more to protect her than the fortress had been able to do. If only because no one knew where she was.

Though, admittedly, one reason she'd stayed so long was because she didn't know where _he_ was, either.

Exhaling, she shook her head vigorously. The time for grief was long gone. Now was the time for focus, for perfection, for _revenge_ …

She was so consumed with her thoughts and moves, she never heard the growls. Not until they were practically next to her.

Luckily the first arrow missed her and hit the dummy square in the chest.

She whirled around, shocked, and found herself staring down a horde. The creatures came at her in a swarm over the fields around the manor, a pulsing mass of pale bodies bleeding black, wielding crude, decaying weapons, dark saliva flying from their rotting teeth as they snarled and hissed, moving as one yet scattering into groups as they came closer. One in particular startled her, standing tall above the rest and crowned with a bone headdress, flames licking up its arms.

Seeing her, it stopped as its brethren scattered into groups, its crumbling lips spreading into a grotesque grin as it raised its arms, the flames crawling up them to fuse at its fingertips. She barely had time to grab her shield before the fireball launched straight at her.

Heat bloomed around her as she ducked behind her shield, but as soon as it dissipated, she rolled forward to grab her sword before jumping back to her feet. With a well-aimed shield bashing the first monster that came at her, sending its tainted axe flying into the air, her blade ran it through in one stroke. She barely heard its dying gurgle as she withdrew her weapon, anger bubbling up inside her as she raced toward the monsters, tearing through them with renewed strength bolstered by blind fury.

She _would not_ let them win. This _would not_ happen again. Not to her. Not when she was the last one left…

The battle slowed and blurred around her as she took down the monsters one by one, slamming them to the ground with her shield and cleaving their necks with her sword or forcing her blade through them up to her wrist. She did not know how much time passed as the sky darkened above her, the storm inching ever closer. She saw only the creatures, her enemies, the threat to be neutralized, until a blow from behind knocked her off her feet.

She fell against the side of the house, stunned to realize how close she had been without ever noticing. Catching her breath, she managed to roll to her side just before an arrow landed in the earth where she had been. Now on her back, pressed up against the wall, she found herself staring into the eyes of a monster.

Dazed, she could only stare as the beast, half her height if she were standing but now towering over her on the ground, gave a hissing, spluttering laugh. The stench of its breath was overwhelming, stinking of death, a smell she was all too familiar with. She groped frantically around her for her weapons, and to her horror she could not see or feel them anywhere beside her.

Exhausted and numb, all she could do was stare into the creature's pitch-black eyes and hear its cruel, grunting laugh.

The monster stood over her and raised its dagger, its blade dripping with ichor. She closed her eyes briefly, waiting for the blow.

So this was how it would end — at the hands of something inhuman, with a poisoned dagger buried in her heart. At least she might see her parents again –

Her eyes flew open at the sound of a blade forced into flesh – but it wasn't her own. The monster's eyes seemed to roll back in its head as it swayed momentarily, then collapsed at her feet. She moved back just in time to avoid touching it as it fell, startled by the sight of a knife buried in the creature's back.

"Your aim has improved, my lady," a lightly accented male voice said from some distance off. Was that accent…Antivan? "I am glad to see my lessons put to good use."

"Ironic that you'd be the one to teach me about keeping my distance, Zev," a cheerful female voice responded, its accent unfamiliar.

"Tsk! Such sass, from such loveliness! Perhaps our next lessons should be in poisons – the art of bringing death in silence."

"This, from the least subtle rogue I've ever met," came the retort.

The owner of the second voice emerged then, and had Olivia been a little more aware, she might have been shocked. The woman who ran out of the nearby forest was half Olivia's size, clad in well-crafted leather armor, twin daggers glinting in her hands. Bright eyes gleamed from beneath her leather helmet. Behind her followed the oddest group of people Olivia had ever seen, including — among others — a blond elf, a templar, and a dark-haired woman clad in rags with a wooden staff in one hand. She tried not to stare as still more appeared, and began sinking back against the barn.

"Right, you all know what to do!" the dwarf commanded. "Alistair, lead Leliana and Morrigan to the emissary! Wynne, Geralt, start on the hurlocks! Sten, Zevran, follow me!"

The templar scurried away followed by a red-haired woman carrying a longbow and the dark-haired woman. A white-haired woman and a mabari went in another direction, but Olivia was too dazed to even process what was happening. Until the dwarf ran up to her, with the elf and a towering – man? – with dark skin and silver braids in close pursuit.

"But first, I need my knife back –" As she bent and twisted the knife out of the creature's back, her eyes locked onto Olivia's.

"Hey, are you all right?" She quickly began to look Olivia over.

Olivia finally opened her mouth to speak, but only a gasp of a word emerged. "I…"

"Oh, no." The dwarf brought her face close to Olivia's, looking carefully into her eyes, gently moving her chin with glove-clad fingers. "Your eyes look all right. Could you open your mouth?"

Olivia obeyed, and the dwarf nodded. "Thank you. Good, no blood in there. What's your name?"

The redhead's lips moved, her voice barely audible. "Olivia."

"Do you remember what happened, Olivia?"

There was a pause as Olivia struggled to answer. "Y – yes. There was an attack…I was caught by surprise…"

"All right." The dwarf continued her cursory examination. "So, no head trauma, no major wounds that I can see, no signs of internal bleeding. Looks like it's good old-fashioned shock, then."

"I see I'm not the only one you've been taking lessons from," the elf said.

"Wynne's been teaching me some things, too," the dwarf replied. She was quiet for a moment before returning her attention to Olivia. "I don't want to force you back out into what you just saw, but it might not be a good idea to leave you here alone and defenseless."

"We cannot stay. There is a battle to be fought," the man with braids said sharply.

"I know, Sten," the dwarf snapped back, before turning again to Olivia. "Well, why don't we just get you to a safe place first? Maybe the woods –"

Olivia's voice suddenly returned, louder this time. She spoke just a single word.

"No."

"What?" The dwarf looked at her, startled. "Oh, good! Maybe it's not as bad as I thought."

Two words: "It's not." Four, with an effort: "Please let me fight."

The dwarf hesitated as she pulled a health poultice from her pack. "Well, I don't see why not. As long as you're really not hurt, and you don't try anything stupid."

"I'm not. I won't."

"Good. All right; drink this, and let's see what you can do with that sword and shield. Zev, could you help her up, please?"

The dwarf handed Olivia the poultice, which she drank greedily, hardly tasting it as it slipped down her throat. Once she was done, the elf stepped forward and held out a leather-gloved hand. Gingerly, Olivia took it; with renewed strength, she rose to her feet. As the dwarf handed her her weapons, she felt her arms rising with their familiar weight. She could see Zev, as the dwarf had called him, was about to say something, but a quick glare from the dwarf silenced him with a slightly chagrined look, tinged with amusement. Olivia thought she could hear the dwarf mutter, "Now's _really_ not the time to flirt."

The group, plus one, ran back into the fray. The darkspawn never saw them coming.

o~O~o

Some time later, the battle was over. Darkspawn corpses were scattered like grotesque confetti across the estate and surrounding fields. A few had managed to infiltrate the house, but thankfully had been slain before they could get more than a few rooms in.

Standing in the middle, blood-splattered and out of breath, were two young women. They were close in age, but — superficially, at least — their similarities ended there. Anyone would have seen only their differences at a casual glance, beginning with the fact that one was dwarven and the other human.

Once they had both cleaned and sheathed their weapons, their breaths finally slowing, the dwarf removed her leather helmet, shaking out twin pigtails that fell neatly over her pierced ears. She brushed her thick brown hair, just a few shades darker than her skin, out of her equally dark eyes and raised them to meet those of her temporary companion.

"Now who do we have here?"

o~O~o

Anais Aeducan had never been one who surprised easily.

It wasn't that she was particularly observant or insightful, able to spot the hints of what was to come well before it actually did. It was more that throughout her life, especially during the last several months, she had learned to always expect the unexpected. She seldom gave thought to what the future held, never planning ahead further than a few days.

Still, even she would have to admit that she could never have planned for the events of today – least of all this one.

"Now who do we have here?" Anais pushed her hair out of her eyes – how had Leliana ever convinced her to try bangs? – and looked at her newest, and most unexpected, ally. The human woman returned her gaze with one of suspicion, tinged with trepidation.

It was clear this woman was no lady-in-waiting. She looked to be no more than nineteen or twenty years old, her youthful appearance belying the mature manner she was now attempting to present. With a little aid from scratched iron boots, she stood just short of Alistair's height. Her flame-red hair, chunks of it spilling from the sorry remains of a bun at the back of her head, stood in stark contrast to her fair complexion and watery blue eyes, small and pale as bird's eggs. Her sharp, crisply defined features, lined with premature age, gave the effect of being striking rather than beautiful. (Still, Anais mused, when it came to class, beauty was in the poise, not the face.) Her armor and weapons, finely crafted and obviously not terribly affordable for the general population, shone like new even in the dimming sunlight.

Anais took in the other woman's appearance with a neutral expression, casually sizing her up as much out of habit as curiosity. "My name is Anais. Anais Aeducan. You said your name was Olivia?"

The other woman barely hesitated before answering. "Yes."

"Just Olivia?"

Olivia's mouth tightened with barely suppressed fury, but before Anais could react, she spoke again in a controlled tone. "No. My name is Cousland. Olivia Cousland."

Anais cocked her head. The surname meant nothing to her at first, but there was an itch at the back of her mind, an instinct she couldn't shake. Had she heard that name before? Whispered in some tavern, bandied about on the road?

"Oh!" Anais heard a soft gasp behind her, and turned to see a wide-eyed Leliana. "You – you were –?"

The redhead in front of Anais gave a curt, mirthless laugh. "I see our name still carries some significance. Yes, I am, and yes, we were. Any more questions?"

 _Plenty_ , Anais thought, but seeing Olivia's lips still pressed into a thin line, now was not the time to ask them. "Just one. Have you been checked by our healer, Wynne? She's in the house."

"No. I'll go see her." Without another word, she whirled on her feet and stalked back towards the house.

Alistair, having come up behind Anais, ran a hand through his hair, puzzled. "What was that all about?" he asked, once Olivia was out of earshot.

"You tell me." Anais watched the retreating human, silently going over what had just happened.

"And the way she fought! I've never seen anyone so enraged. Do you think she was a berserker?"

Anais shook her head, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I've seen plenty of berserkers back in Orzammar, but that…" She knew there was a certain finesse to a trained berserker's style that belied their moniker, an intense control that was the result of learning to focus their rage, rather than just running around in a blind fury brandishing weapons like a madman.

No, that hadn't just been someone channeling anger into their fighting. That had been a woman possessed on the battlefield.

"I believe I may have an explanation," Leliana said, stepping forward.

"Oh?" Anais looked at her curiously. "Would you care to fill me in, please?"

"Certainly," Leliana said. "She is of the Cousland family, who holds – or held, as it were – Highever, one of the only two teyrnirs in Ferelden. There was the teyrn, Bryce, his wife, Eleanor, and their two grown children."

"'Held?' 'Was'?"

Leliana shook her head. "Sadly, they were all supposed to have perished six months ago when their castle was attacked. There are rumors as to who was responsible for the attack, but nothing definite as far as I know."

"'Supposed to'?" Anais hoped implied quotation marks weren't going to become a regular part of her speech now.

"Well, their son Fergus, who was the eldest, may yet be alive, as he was to leave for Ostagar and could have done so before the attack. No one has had time or inclination to search, though, given the Blight's chaos. Their daughter Olivia, on the other hand…" Leliana trailed off.

Anais's eyes widened. " _Oh_. Oh, ancestors. But how could she have escaped?"

"You would have to ask her," Leliana replied. "But you saw what she did to those darkspawn. Her mother was well-known for her skill in combat, atypical for a noblewoman, and her father was no slouch, either."

Alistair smacked his forehead, forgetting he was still wearing plate gloves. "I _knew_ I recognized that heraldry from somewhere! When I was a boy, I saw it on their guards' shields when they visited Redcliffe."

"Did you ever talk to them?" Anais asked.

Wincing, Alistair shook his head. "Not really. They only came once or twice while I was there, without their children. Not surprising, considering the distance. Eamon seemed to get on well with the teyrn and teyrna, though. They were always very kind to me when they came out to the stables."

Anais's jaw clenched for a moment at the reminder of that particular judgment call of Eamon's, then relaxed as she handed him a poultice. She wondered briefly whether the flush blossoming on his forehead was due more to injury or embarrassment. "Anything you can tell me about them? What they were like as people?"

"Not much Leliana hasn't already said," Alistair replied, carefully applying the poultice to his forehead. "They seemed to have a happy family life, and were well-liked by their subjects as well as other nobles. I do know they were involved somehow in the Grey Warden rebellion at Soldier's Peak, and they sided with Maric during the Orlesian rebellion. Not the kind of nobles who'd sit in their castle sipping tea with biscuits while their subjects did all the hard work."

"Good," Anais responded with a wink. "I don't care for biscuits."

Underneath her joviality, her mind whirled with all this new information. So the woman was effectively an exiled noble, just like herself. She was also likely the last of her line. Going on a hunch, she asked Leliana, "Who's rumored to have been responsible for the attack?"

"The current teyrn of Highever, as he calls himself," Leliana replied, "who is also the arl of both Denerim and Amaranthine. His name is Rendon Howe, and he was a longtime friend of Bryce's."

Anais swallowed. A noble forced from her home, the last of her family, betrayed by someone she thought she could trust…that made three out of three.

"Anais? Is everything all right?" Alistair asked, as he and Leliana eyed her curiously.

"What? Yes, yes, everything's fine," Anais responded, forcing herself to keep her mind in the present. "I'd just like to talk with her later, that's all. Thanks for telling me what you know."

Alistair looked confused for a few moments longer before his eyes brightened with comprehension, and he nodded. After a minute, Leliana's did, too.

Anais didn't have to wait long. Olivia strode back from the manor just a minute or two later; after confirming who Leliana was, she informed her that she was wanted inside. Leliana immediately left for the manor, leaving Alistair and Anais with Olivia. The three of them stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, which was only made more uncomfortable by Alistair's clearing his throat several times.

Finally, Olivia's brow knitted in thought as she seemed to consider something, before she looked at Anais and asked her a question.

"How did you know the darkspawn were here? This place is…rather off the beaten path."

Anais hesitated. She exchanged a glance with Alistair, who shrugged and nodded. "Well, we were just a short way off, and we sensed the darkspawn, so we followed the trail."

"Sensed them?" Olivia tilted her head, clearly not understanding.

Anais bit her lip, preparing for yet another accusation of betrayal. "We're Grey Wardens…me and him," she said, indicating Alistair. "The rest are allies."

To her surprise, the barest hint of a smile curved the corner of Olivia's small mouth. "Grey Wardens, huh? Must be my lucky day."

"I suppose so," Anais remarked after a moment. "We are the only ones left, after all."

Olivia looked at her, frowning. "What do you mean? What happened to the rest of your order?"

Anais only just managed to stop her jaw from dropping. "You haven't heard anything about the Grey Wardens and Ostagar?"

Olivia shook her head. "Not much. I…haven't heard much gossip out here."

 _Well,_ Anais thought, _this has to count for_ something. _The one corner of Ferelden that hasn't heard the lies — or anything at all._

She was startled from her thoughts by Olivia speaking again. "Well, whatever the rumors are, _I_ know that you helped me out today." The faint half-smile returned. "Thank you."

"It was no trouble," Anais said, shrugging. She was quiet for a few moments as she looked at the storm-threatening clouds overhead, and the rest of the group now coming towards her from the house. "Olivia, do you mind if we stay here tonight? We don't have to sleep in the house." _Though it would be nice,_ she did not add. "We can just camp on the property if that's not an imposition."

Olivia looked at her, surprised. "No, that's okay. I don't mind if you stay in the house. There's plenty of room for everyone here."

"Great, thank you." Anais smiled. "Do you hear that, everyone? Beds and a roof tonight!"

She couldn't help but notice Olivia's amusement at the murmur of approval that rippled through the group in response.

"In that case, I presume you won't mind if we take over the kitchen for a bit," Anais said to Olivia. Without a second thought, she added, "You're welcome to join us for dinner, if you'd like."

Olivia considered for a minute, and Anais wasn't sure how she'd respond. Then, remarkably, she saw another small smile gradually make its way across the other woman's face, a ray of light piercing a dark fog. "Yes…that would be nice, thank you. Help yourself to anything in there."

"Good," Anais said, smiling, not knowing what else to say. She turned to her group. "Everyone, we still have some things to do before we can relax."

The rest of the group obediently turned to face their leader, with varying degrees of interest. To Anais's surprise, Olivia hung somewhat off to the side; when Anais nodded at her, she approached tentatively, but still didn't quite join the group as she listened.

"All right. We need to clean up. We'll keep it simple – just drag the corpses into a pile and burn them. And we'll need to burn anything in the house that they touched, just to be safe; Alistair and I will handle those things. Everyone, be careful of their blood."

o~O~o

A few hours later, Anais's ragtag group and Olivia were all seated on bales of hay around a spacious dining room table – this room had unfortunately been one of the few invaded by the darkspawn, and the chairs had paid the price – eating a dinner that had been prepared by Zevran and Morrigan. Even with most of the furnishings destroyed or decaying, Anais could see the elegant, understated grandeur in the remaining decorations and didn't find it hard to imagine the feasts that had once been served in this room. Geralt, her beloved mabari, sat off to the side slurping happily at his own dish.

"I must say," she remarked with a sly grin as they dug into their roast lamb, vegetable soup, and fresh bread, "it is nice to eat a meal that wasn't cooked in the pot Alistair washes his dirty socks in."

At her side, Alistair gave her a mock pout. "I did boil it afterwards."

"You also boiled the socks!"

"They might have improved the flavor," Sten added. It was only the third or fourth time he had spoken since their arrival.

"And perhaps the color," Zevran chimed in.

Most of the others laughed, and even Geralt barked in agreement. Olivia, who was seated near the end of the table next to Leliana, joined in with polite laughter. Cleaned up and with her hair pulled into a new, neat bun, she did not present a picture much different than what Anais had previously encountered. She hadn't said much since the meal started, just sitting and eating quietly, occasionally letting out a chuckle or two at the group's occasional quips and retorts. Anais wasn't sure if her reticence was because she didn't find their jokes that funny or if she just wasn't in a laughing mood. As dinner went on, she leaned towards the latter, but either way she took no offense. Olivia had pitched in with the cleanup and dinner preparations without being asked or invited, and had done more than Anais would have expected of her. She was more than satisfied to have Olivia join them for dinner.

Everyone devoured their food with a hunger to rival Anais's and Alistair's, all tired from the battle as well as cleanup efforts. As the conversation continued, the mood was sobered somewhat when Olivia finally asked what had happened to the rest of the Grey Wardens. Anais and Alistair took turns telling the story, and Olivia listened with rapt attention, occasionally shaking her head or tightening her jaw.

"I've only met Teyrn Loghain a few times," she remarked once the story was done. "While he always struck me as a bit overzealous, there was no question about how much he loved Ferelden. If he really believed destroying your order was in the country's best interests, I can't imagine what other extremes he might go to."

"We'd love to ask him ourselves," Anais answered quickly, seeing the rage beginning to simmer underneath Alistair's otherwise calm expression. Under the table, she took his hand, squeezing it gently until she saw him relax.

"Being the last of your kind…must be a bit lonely at times," Olivia said, trailing off as she idly stirred her soup.

Alistair shrugged. "It can be. But we've found solace in each other –" the tender look he gave Anais was not lost on anyone else at the table, who either "aww"-ed quietly or rolled their eyes – "and we'll be rebuilding the order once the Blight's over. Hopefully Weisshaupt will send some assistance along so we'll have company."

There was no talking for a few minutes as the group concentrated on their meal, until the silence was finally broken by a voice from the end of the table.

"How did you know the darkspawn were here?"

Anais looked up, startled. Everyone at her end of the table looked just as surprised, so she swiveled her gaze to look at the opposite. The only person with a questioning look was Olivia.

She and Alistair exchanged a brief glance. Per usual, he quietly signaled for her to take the lead. Anais thought quickly.

"Well, part of our Grey Warden…training is the ability to sense darkspawn."

Unfortunately for Anais, her answer only made Olivia more curious. "You can sense them? To what extent?"

Anais shrugged. "Not as much as you might think, since we've both only been Wardens for a short time. We can tell what types there are and get a rough idea of the group's size. Alistair has been a Warden for longer, so his sense is better than mine. He's also a templar, so he can sense the emissaries' magic. Eventually I think we'll be able to hone our senses a bit more. We weren't even planning to come this way originally, but we began sensing them not long after we realized we'd taken a wrong turn. It was mostly chance, really."

Olivia nodded and said nothing more. Anais considered the other woman thoughtfully. She clearly wasn't the airheaded, painfully sheltered type of noble Anais was unfortunately accustomed to dealing with. No, this woman was intelligent and, more importantly, observant. Unlike others Anais had met, she had immediately zeroed in on the one aspect of their story that was not so easy to explain away. And she hadn't immediately accepted Anais's word for it, either. Even now, Anais could see the gears turning in her head, the thoughts flickering through her mind as she processed what she had been told. She made a mental note to prepare herself for more questions later.

Mercifully, Alistair prevented her from asking anything further now. "I sensed them first, of course. So that's when I said, 'War-den senses tingling!'" he proclaimed in a singsong tone.

From the other side of the table, Morrigan scoffed audibly. "'Tis then that I said, 'I should rather think the other five senses would be possessed by all members of your order, but in your case, anything is possible.'"

"And that's when _I_ said, 'Fighting now, bickering later'," Anais said with a grin.

Everyone laughed, including Olivia. "And that's why she's our leader," Alistair said proudly.

Anais ducked her head, blushing slightly. "Yes, well, my father always said it was important for your wits to be as sharp as your blade. And that's why he was king."

"King?" Olivia looked at her with new interest. "So…you're a princess?"

"Was," Anais said shortly, sipping her wine. "Long story and not one I'd care to tell at the moment."

Olivia nodded in understanding, and comfortable silence settled as the group continued to eat. Just before Anais's attention returned to her plate, she caught Olivia's eye.

The two women looked at each other for a long moment, and Anais could not read what she saw in Olivia's face. Surprise? Understanding? Compassion? Disbelief?

Was she just as startled as Anais to discover what they had in common?

The table talk eventually resumed, but to Anais's relief, no further questions were asked about her past, or about being a Grey Warden.

Olivia's musing gaze into the distance, however, did not wane.

o~O~o

After dessert and a quick nightcap — both rare and savored luxuries — everyone retired to their rooms, exhausted from the day's events. After checking with Olivia, Anais told the others that they were long overdue for a rest day and tomorrow they would take one here. Surprised but pleased that Anais had asked, Olivia had said it was fine with her if they stayed another day; it wasn't really her place, anyway, and she could go anywhere if she wanted to be alone. Though, she had to admit, she was beginning to enjoy their company. (She did not tell Anais this.)

Olivia sat on her bed, washed and dressed for sleep but hardly able to relax. This day had not at all turned out how she'd expected it to. Then again, what _had_ she expected? It wasn't as if she'd made any progress on her _real_ goal.

Being completely honest, though, how much progress had she made at all since escaping Castle Cousland? She'd stumbled upon this place, resumed her weapons training, and…that was about it. Of course, she'd been consumed by anger and grief for the first several weeks on her own, barely able to see through all the tears she had shed. Now, she had since reached a place of calm, though she was far from done grieving. She was able to at least take care of herself and her combat skills were furlongs ahead of where they had been even before the attack. She couldn't wait to show them to Rendon Howe. The question now was…how did she go about doing that?

Olivia fell back on her pillows with a sigh. The answer seemed obvious: leave here and head for the capital, where Howe was likely to turn up at some point. But of course it wasn't that simple. If anything, what had happened today had just complicated matters further. Even if she could track down Howe, if she were to stumble into another darkspawn group like the one she had encountered today, she might not stand a chance alone. That wasn't even considering what might happen if Howe somehow learned she was alive and decided to finish the job.

Olivia rubbed her eyes, exhausted. What she really needed right now was guidance — some kind of a sign, perhaps. She turned to look at the table beside her bed, where the Chantry pendant her mother had gifted to her years ago now lay. It was perhaps her most valuable possession now, second only in worth to her family sword. She'd removed it from her neck weeks ago, but hadn't been able to bring herself to throw it away.

That wasn't just because it would probably fetch a very nice price from an honest merchant, either.

Tentatively, she reached over and took the pendant in her hand. It was cold and smooth against her calloused palm. Closing her eyes, she held it over her heart and, for the first time in many weeks, tried to pray.

Yet as she tried to speak to the Maker, the same terrible, unanswerable question that had echoed in her mind since her first night on her own was all she could think to ask.

 _Why?_

Her eyes opened as her fingers clenched around the gold-embossed symbol of Andraste till her knuckles whitened. Losing herself momentarily, she started to draw her fist back, but caught herself before throwing the icon at the wall. Instead, she sighed and carefully set the pendant back on the table.

She couldn't — wouldn't — think about this now. She needed to get some sleep and think on it further in the morning. As she had promised herself she would do every night since her escape.

The sound of laughter caught her attention. She sat up, realizing it was coming from her cracked window. The afternoon's threatened storm had finally rolled in, and the gentle patter of rain on the roof now blended with this new sound as naturally as two instruments in a duet. Curious, she rose from the bed and went to look outside.

Anais and Alistair were whirling around in circles together, joined only by their outstretched hands. They were dressed in plain clothes, not seeming to notice or care that they were quickly becoming soaked, hair plastered to their scalps and sleeves clinging to their arms as they laughed and spun around. Once in a while, Alistair would stop to pick Anais up, toss her gently in the air, and easily catch her as she eagerly pulled him into a kiss, playfulness giving way to passion as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his grip on her tightened.

Olivia watched the couple laughing and twirling in the rain, and felt a smile creeping over her face. It had been a while since she had seen such sheer joy, such happiness at simply being _alive_ and together. She had known many happy couples, but their public displays of affection had tended to be much more discreet and reserved. Not since her parents had she seen two people so openly delighted just to be in each other's presence.

Her gaze moved from the window and her smile slowly faded, replaced with an expression of wistfulness.

Maybe someday she'd be lucky enough to find a love like that.

Maybe one day she'd feel that kind of happiness again.

o~O~o

An hour or so later, after hot baths to counteract the rain's chill, Anais and Alistair were ready to turn in, as most of the others had already settled in for the night. After saying their nightly prayers – his to the Maker, hers to her ancestors – they climbed into bed. Geralt, watchful as always, curled up by the door.

They took quick gulps of the sleeping draught Wynne had been experimenting with for them. Only time would tell whether or not it would work, but any chance at a full night's sleep was worth drinking a hundred potions for. And as Alistair pointed out, their blood couldn't really become _more_ toxic. With this last ritual done, they snuggled in each other's embrace.

Anais had lost track of how many nights they had lain together, but all of them felt like the first one, as she let the stresses of the day melt away in the warmth of his arms. He was lazily stroking her hair, now loose and just barely touching her shoulder. She snuggled closer, the better to feel the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. To her, cuddling like this felt as intimate as making love, if not more so. The simple pleasure of being held, of being so close to another person without any demands or expectations, was one she had thought she'd never experience again — least of all with _him_ , least of all now.

"Alistair?"

"Hm?" His fingers made no move to leave her hair.

"What do you think of Olivia?"

He sat up a bit, surprised. "You're asking _me?"_

She shrugged, grinning a little. "Nobody else here." Anticipating his reply, she tilted her head towards Geralt. "Nobody who's willing to _share_ , anyway."

Geralt whined in response; his mistress and her partner laughed. Alistair lay back down, considering for a minute before answering. "I think she's a smart, strong person who's still in a lot of pain. If even a little of what Leliana said is true, that's not something you just get over. I wonder how well she's been able to deal with it on her own all this time. I at least had you after Ostagar." Teasingly, he added, "Well, after a while."

Anais swatted him lightly. "You know damn well why it took me so long to warm up to you."

Alistair chuckled, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to the back. "I do. I did, once you finally told me, anyway; once I really understood what you'd been through and how much you were still hurting." After a pause, he added, "And if Olivia's anything like you — if that's what you're getting at — I think she could use a friend just as much as you."

Anais nodded, squeezing Alistair's hand tightly. If there was anyone who could maybe, possibly be a friend to Olivia now, perhaps it was someone who understood her pain — or at least tried to.

She sat up and kissed him. "Thank you, Ali. I love you."

He returned her kiss with one on her forehead. "I love you more, Ana."

He pulled the blanket up around them, careful not to throw it over her face while doing so, and settled into the bed. Anais did as well, but even as the draught took hold, she remained awake long after Alistair's grip had relaxed and his breathing deepened, pondering the enigma that was their unexpected ally.

o~O~o

The next day was pleasant but uneventful, exactly what everyone had been hoping for. The various members of the group took leisurely strolls around the estate, read books, knitted, meditated, honed their fighting techniques – and not a single darkspawn interrupted their recuperation. Before they knew it, the sun was resting on the lower hills and the sky was awash in gold. After a generous dinner, the group decided as one to waddle back outside, as it was still early.

Since they weren't so concerned with watch, everyone simply enjoyed the beautiful evening. Last night's rain had cleared and refreshed the air, and the half-moon beamed from an inky, cloudless sky amongst a glittering sea of stars.

Olivia, after a long day's practice and a full evening meal, was moving languidly towards the pond in back of the house. It wasn't somewhere she went often, but she could always count on it as a place where she could be alone. Tonight, however, she saw Anais perched on the hollow log next to the pond, chin resting on her hands, her dog standing protectively nearby as he sniffed in the grass along the pond's edge. She was surprised, but for some reason not terribly disappointed by the company.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" she said casually.

Anais turned, smiling when she saw Olivia, her dark eyes bright even in the encroaching darkness. "Yes, it is. Care to join me?"

She moved aside on the log and Olivia took the spot.

"…Unless, of course," Anais quickly added, "you came out here to be alone, in which case Geralt and I can find some other place to relax."

Olivia smiled a little. "That's nice of you, but no need. I – don't really want to be alone right now."

Anais nodded. "All right. Well — " she smiled "— you're in luck. I could use some company."

"You don't get enough of that with your group?"

Anais shrugged. "We all get on well enough – more or less – and I count most of them as friends, but it's always nice to meet a new face. I like being around a lot of people – I guess because I grew up that way."

"You're from — what's it called? Orzammar. You're from Orzammar, aren't you?"

Anais turned to Olivia, surprised and genuinely impressed. "That's right. How did you guess?"

Olivia snorted. "I'm not sure it's guessing if there are only two options. You said last night your father was a king, and the only dwarven king I know of…" She stopped, as if afraid she was treading into dangerous territory.

"Well remembered," Anais said, smiling to put Olivia at ease. "It's okay; I don't mind talking about it so much these days. I miss it, but not the way I used to."

Olivia nodded. "I think I know what you mean." After a moment, she asked, "What's it like for you now, being up here?"

Anais thought for a minute. "It's…nothing like I expected. Before, I had never thought about what life topside might be like. Now, every day I find something new that I've never experienced before, that the others just take for granted. Like nights, for example."

"Nights?" Olivia looked at her curiously, thinking of what she had seen from her window.

Anais chuckled. "See, that's what I mean. Listen for a minute." They fell silent, and gradually Olivia began to notice the sounds of the night surrounding them. The gentle strumming of Leliana's lute was accompanied by the perky, chirping songs of crickets and the occasional hoot of a curious owl, interspersed with the companions' light chatter from the front yard.

So often she had lain awake with her window open, immersed in her own thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Back in Castle Cousland, she had always looked forward to warm evenings for this very reason. When was the last time she had simply listened to the quiet music of the night and let it lull her to sleep?

Anais broke into her thoughts after a minute or two. "Nights are so…so _alive_ up here. There's a whole other world that comes out. Underground, there's no night or day. There's just one moment after another. Which isn't so bad in some respects, but…it will make it harder to go back."

"Do you want to go back to Orzammar?" Olivia asked.

Anais shrugged. "I…don't know how to answer that, really. I have no choice but to go back, given the circumstances, and I must say I do want to see how things are now. But if I could choose whether or not to return…I don't know. I suppose I'll know for sure the closer I get. If that makes any sense."

To her surprise, Olivia answered after only a few moments. "Yes. Yes, it does, Anais." She added softly, "I think I understand just how you feel."

"Thank you," was all Anais could say in response. They were quiet for a few minutes.

It was Olivia who broke the silence, with the one question Anais had not expected her to ask.

"What's Orzammar like?"

Anais looked at her, surprised. "You really want to know?"

"Of course! I've read about it in books, and I've known some dwarves. But they were either born here, didn't want to talk about it, or came up so long ago they didn't remember. Reading about a place isn't the same as living there, or even hearing about it from someone who did. It's right under our feet, and yet I have no idea what it's really like."

"Six months ago, I would have said something similar about the surface." Anais chuckled, then thought briefly before continuing. "You know what it is, most of all, aside from rocks, lava, and lyrium? Oh, and a stone's throw – no pun intended – from the darkspawn?"

"What is it?"

"It's uniform. That might explain why we're so resistant to change, I suppose; we so rarely see it in our daily environment. Steady as the stone and just as unyielding; that's us dwarves."

Olivia snorted. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Sometimes there's a difference between flexibility and adaptability. And sometimes the first one accompanies instability."

"Still, there's 'ability' in all of those, isn't there?" Anais mused.

"True." Olivia paused, sorting through her thoughts. "I suppose that's how a leader should think, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." Anais gave a short laugh, tracing a circle in the dirt with the toe of her boot. "I wasn't even the eldest, and yet I was brought up to lead just as much as my brothers were. An army, in my case."

"Did you ever think about being queen?"

Anais was quiet for a moment before answering. "That wasn't something I ever aspired to, really, but I was prepared for the possibility, if it ever arose." She looked away, swallowing hard, and her next words came in a near-whisper. "Or at least, I _thought_ I was."

"I'm sorry," Olivia said quickly. "I didn't mean —"

"No, it's okay," Anais answered, her voice pitched a bit higher than normal. "You didn't know. Look, all you need to know for now is this: you know how you feel about the man who killed your family?"

The customary burst of anger that accompanied thoughts of Howe quickly surged in Olivia's heart, but for once she pushed it aside and nodded, curious to see where Anais was going with this.

"Well, that's how I feel about my little brother. My only brother, now. The one who _didn't_ die in front of me. "

Olivia gasped; Anais nodded grimly. The red-haired woman sat stunned for a minute; while it had been clear that Anais had dealt with deep betrayal in her past, never would Olivia have guessed that the deception had come from her own sibling. Worse, she too knew the pain of watching her family die before her eyes – but it had come, it seemed, at another family member's hand. Howe might have been a trusted friend to her father, but he was far from flesh and blood. She didn't know if that made his scheming more or less painful; then again, this wasn't a competition. Did it really matter?

"I'm so sorry," was all Olivia could say.

"Thank you." Anais's voice was husky. When she finally spoke again a few minutes later, it was tight and controlled, more to herself than Olivia. "I should have seen what he was scheming! I prided myself so much on upholding our traditions and yet I was blind to the most enduring of them all – betrayal." She clenched her fists, exhaling deeply as she gritted her teeth. "Sharing blood isn't enough to spare someone if spilling it will suit your ends better."

"The same applies to trust," Olivia muttered.

Anais looked at her sympathetically. "Ah, yes. You know that as well as I do. Probably even better."

Olivia nodded. Silence fell briefly, till it was broken by Anais.

"Not to minimize what happened to your family, but if there's even a grain of truth in what we've heard about Howe on the road…my daggers and I are very much looking forward to meeting him."

"Not half as much as mine are," Olivia nearly spat.

"You know," Anais said, hoping to keep her from going into a rage, "if we lived in Orzammar, you'd only have to pick a fight with him in the street to kill him."

To her relief, Olivia laughed, and her next words were without a hint of bloodthirstiness. "I like the sound of that! Sadly, we don't live there."

"You mean that in this country, you don't, as a rule, go around killing each other in the street?"

Olivia laughed. "Not in Ferelden, no. I've heard tales from Antiva (Anais nodded in agreement), but that's not our way of doing things. No, we're much more patient and practical in our dealings. We try to talk things out first before resorting to violence. I can appreciate that to an extent; it helps you grasp all sides of the situation first. But other times…" She trailed off without needing to finish.

Anais nodded. "Sometimes the other side of the story doesn't really matter, does it?"

Olivia merely bit her lip in response.

Anais waited until a minute's silence had passed before changing the subject. "Speaking of the other side, there's something about topsiders that's always intrigued me, ever since I came up here."

"Oh?" Olivia looked at her with interest. "What is it?"

"Well, I'm not really sure how to explain it." Anais dug the heel of her boot into the soft ground, seemingly just to give her foot something to do. "It's a sort of…paradox. Is that what Wynne called it? Yes, a paradox, in how you value things compared to us dwarves. You find beauty and value in what's common to us, and vice versa. I still can't quite understand it."

"We're not puzzles for you to solve," Olivia said, annoyed.

"Listen," Anais said, trying to keep the edge from her voice, "I'm not here to study your life and report back. I don't see surfacers as curiosities or freaks, unlike most of my people. I'm likely going to spend the rest of my life among you all. I'm not even sure if home was what I thought it was. You can't blame me for wanting to make _some_ sense of what you all are like."

"True," Olivia conceded. She was quiet, and Anais wondered if she was trying to imagine herself in the same position — forced underground into a completely foreign way of life, likely for the rest of her life.

To her surprise, Olivia was now looking at her with some sympathy — compassion, not pity. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Anais shrugged. "It's okay. I'm sorry I got so defensive. I probably should have made myself clearer before."

"So what were you trying to say, exactly?"

"Well…" Anais thought for a minute or two. "Let's put it this way: I could find the purest lyrium stream in the deepest cavern, impossibly blue, with a song as clear as its color…but it would pale next to the feel of a warm summer rain. I could find the most flawless ruby, and it wouldn't be half as valuable to me as this." So saying, she pulled a thin silver chain from under her shirt and held it out to Olivia, showing a vibrant red rose pressed and preserved in a simple glass pendant. "The first gift Alistair ever gave me. The first tangible one, anyway." After a few moments, she let the pendant slip back down the chain, where it clicked against a small vial that appeared to be filled with a coalescing liquid in a deeper red.

Olivia was fascinated by all that Anais had just said, but she couldn't help herself. "What's in the vial?"

"Blood from my Joining – the ritual that made me a Warden. I can't tell you much more than that, but let's just say it wasn't what I expected. There were three recruits; I was the only survivor."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. One was chance, one was choice. They were good men, but it is what it is. That's why I still wear this, and Alistair wears one from his Joining. It's a physical reminder that nothing is certain, and of what brought us here." Anais was quiet for a bit. "You know, it's odd – to everyone else, above and below, blood is what makes you noble, but that's only in their minds. To us, our blood _physically_ makes us what we are."

Olivia frowned. "What do you mean?"

Anais sighed. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but sometimes I need to talk about it with someone other than Alistair. Essentially, being a Warden is in our blood. It's why we can sense the darkspawn, and something we can never change."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Look, I can't go into detail – Warden secrets, you know. Stupidly-kept secrets, in my opinion, but until there are more of us I'd rather not ruffle any feathers. Let's just say what sets Wardens apart from ordinary fighters is literally a component of our blood. That's one reason we don't necessarily take just anyone – and also why we accept recruits from all walks of life. It might be in the highest king or the lowest commoner. You just never know."

Olivia nodded slowly. "I still don't fully understand, but I think I see what you're saying. You know, at one time Father suggested I might make a good Grey Warden. I wonder if he knew something I didn't."

Anais tipped her head to one side. "Somehow I'm not surprised. Well, after the Blight is over, we'll definitely be looking for recruits if you're interested."

"Perhaps."

There was silence between them for a few minutes. Olivia finally broke it with one burning question.

"And this – _component_ is the only part of your blood that matters?"

Anais nodded, hearing what she wasn't saying. "Basically, yes, though it probably has more to do with the shortened lifespan than anything else." She bit her lip, wondering if she had said too much.

Olivia looked at her curiously, then comprehension lit her face. "You don't live long because of your demands as a Warden?"

Anais relaxed. "Ye-es, something like that. After all, a member of the king's army can hardly be expected to live longer than the king himself."

Olivia nodded. "Of course. So, noble or not, most Wardens don't hold titles?"

"Yes. There's no law or anything prohibiting it, but it's discouraged. Same with marrying and having a family. Alistair's thrilled about that first part, but not so much about the second."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Anais automatically looked around, then moved closer to Olivia. She was far more accustomed to eavesdropping than she realized. She also had no idea what in the Void had made her say that last comment, but if Alistair couldn't have been bothered to clear the air when they'd first met, she could still be upfront and honest. She'd long since forgiven him, but it still stung on occasion. "I can count on your discretion? All of our companions know, so I doubt he'd mind my telling you, but he doesn't exactly want it spread around."

"Certainly. I don't care much for gossip, anyway. It all just boils down to half-truths and slander. So what's the secret?"

Anais leaned forward confidentially. "He's Maric's son."

Olivia's neatly trimmed eyebrows went up, then furrowed in recollection. "Can't say I'm surprised Maric had a bastard on the side – no offense."

Anais chuckled. "None taken. That's how he described himself when we were first getting to know each other."

Olivia smiled, then thought some more, before nodding. "I only met Cailan a handful of times at court, but I see it."

"I should've seen it as early as Ostagar," Anais remarked. "Too much on my mind, I suppose, to be looking for uncanny resemblances between the king and my 'brother'."

"You still think of him as your brother? Even though –"

Anais quickly held up a hand. "Don't go there, please."

Olivia laughed. "Sorry."

Anais's laughter joined hers. "You're not the first to bring it up, don't worry."

When their mirth died down, Olivia asked delicately, "So is there a chance he could become king?"

Anais shrugged. "Hopefully not. He's _really_ not excited about the prospect, and I can understand why. Not to speak ill of the…well, ill, but Eamon did a terrible job preparing him for the possibility. We're hoping that if he recovers from his sickness, he can serve instead, but we've agreed to just wait it out and hope for the best."

"So…nobility doesn't really mean anything to him? Or you?"

Anais snorted. "It might be hard for you to believe, but let me put it this way. It may be part of who we are, but it isn't _what_ we are. And furthermore…"

She fixed the other woman with a serious expression.

"Neither he nor I bleed blue when we're injured, Olivia." Her gaze, dark and intense, locked onto Olivia's. "No more than you do."

Olivia nodded. "Understood."

"Good." Anais exhaled, her shoulders sagging and gaze relaxing, moving away from Olivia's to look at the pond. "When we first met, we didn't think we had anything in common. It took us a while to realize we really aren't so different. He has the blood of kings in his veins – and where did it get him? A bed in the stables, a childhood in the Chantry, and almost a life sentence in a lyrium-addicted, fanatical religious order. And because of what now flows in his blood – and mine – he won't even get the long, full life he should have. We're at the mercy of a faceless leader, whose name we don't even know, who leads an order that's more legend than fact."

She paused, thinking carefully about her next words. "Wardens don't live long lives. They seldom marry or raise families, or even own land. What can you expect from a calling that dictates you fight one of Thedas's most common and yet least understood threats, a calling you literally cannot ignore?

"There will be more meaning to my life besides being –" here she exhaled deeply "– darkspawn food. But how much more meaning have I lost as a result?"

Olivia didn't know what to say to that. She had thought she had lost everything the night of the attack, and in a sense, she had. But she might – no, _would_ – reclaim Castle Cousland one day, might still eventually marry, raise a family, continue the legacy that had nearly been destroyed by Rendon Howe. Anais might never be able to do any of that, not even if she wanted to. Olivia had never even considered that she might still have possibilities that lay beyond killing Howe and taking back her home. The thought was sobering.

"I'm sorry, Anais," she said finally.

Anais smiled at her a little. "Thanks, but don't be too sad for us. We have each other, and our lives are what they are, limited as they are. We just have to make the best of them now. That's all anyone can do."

Olivia nodded. The air between the two of them suddenly felt as heavy as a summer haze.

There was silence for a few minutes, before Geralt rose and padded over to Olivia. He tilted his head to look at her, much as his mistress was wont to do, seeming to consider her for a moment. Absently, Olivia held out an open palm. Geralt sniffed it, then shyly dropped his head down. Automatically, Olivia scratched under his chin. His tongue darted out to lick her palm, and for the first time in several minutes, Olivia laughed.

Anais joined in. "That's my boy," she said fondly.

"He certainly is," Olivia said, grinning as Geralt turned to look proudly at his mistress, his gaze seeming to say _See? I cheered her up!_ "What did you say his name was?"

"Geralt. It's the name of a man from dwarven legends who was bred to hunt monsters. Knowing what I do now, I think he might actually have been based on a real Grey Warden. I begged my nurse to tell those tales to me every night until I was too old for bedtime stories." She smiled at the memory before reaching out to pat Geralt's flank. "We don't keep mabaris in Orzammar, but I'm beginning to understand why everyone loves them topside."

Olivia nodded, still smiling. "Well, my family was no exception."

"Oh? What was your dog called?"

"Culann. Also from oral tradition, which Fergus and I begged _my_ Nan to tell us every night."

Anais grinned. "Great minds, eh? What was the naughtiest mess he ever got into?"

For a while they swapped stories of their dogs, frequently laughing and occasionally gasping in pretend shock at the antics their beloved pets had gotten up to. Geralt alternated between them for pats and scratches, savoring every bit of attention as he seemed to listen.

"I'd love to have a dog again," Olivia said, once she had finally run out of stories. "It's not practical right now, but…" She rubbed Geralt's belly, and he responded by plopping down on her foot and rolling over for more, making both Anais and Olivia laugh. "I'll borrow this one for now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I know _he_ doesn't."

Olivia smiled. "You know, despite everything that happened…it's good to remember those times. I hadn't thought about them much until now."

"I understand," Anais said, nodding. "No matter what, you'll always have those memories, those experiences. Even if you think about them differently now."

"Yes," Olivia said thoughtfully as she scratched under Geralt's chin, while he leaned into her hand. "You know, that reminds me of something else from my childhood."

"Oh? What's that?"

Olivia was quiet for a few moments, speaking slowly as the past gradually rose to the surface of her mind. "There was a chapter book I loved as a child, an adventure story. I begged Nan to read it to me every night for a solid month, till finally I had a good enough grasp on words to read the whole thing myself. And then I read it till the cover nearly fell off." She chuckled at the memory. "In time I discovered the joy of other books, fiction and otherwise, and put that one aside. Years later, when I was clearing some old things out of my room, I came across it again, and I was so excited, remembering how much I'd loved it. That night I laid in bed with it and a glass of warm milk. And I'm sure you can guess what happened next."

Anais pretended to think. "Well, I give up."

"Smart-arse. Well, it was terrible!" Olivia started to laugh. "Disjointed plot, underdeveloped characters, dull setting, and an ending that really didn't make any sense with two seconds' thought. It was mediocre at best. Nan was a saint, truly. I was so disappointed I nearly threw it in the fire. But after I'd had a minute to think about it, I decided not to get rid of it."

The dwarf tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Because while it was bad, it wasn't offensively so. It showed me how far I'd come and how much I'd grown in all those years, to now be able to truly appreciate a good book — even if this wasn't one. And it had brought me so much happiness as a child, at no cost to others, and helped instill my love of reading so young, that I just couldn't bear to throw it away. So I kept it, as a reminder that while some things may not be as good as we remember, that doesn't necessarily devalue them, or mean we aren't better for having experienced them."

Anais smiled. "You're a wise woman, Olivia Cousland."

Olivia snorted. "Not by half. But I'm trying. I like to think I get a little wiser every day."

"Sometimes," Anais mused, "that's the best we can do."

As silence fell between them, they looked down into the pond, moonlight reflecting their silhouettes. In daylight their reflections would have been clear, but in the darkness it was impossible to see more than vague differences between their shadows, blurring into one in the inky water.

"I should get to bed," Anais said after a while. "We'll need to make an early start tomorrow." She rose, smiling at her companion. "It was nice talking to you, Olivia."

"You too, Anais," Olivia replied, sincerely but perhaps a bit more absently than she intended. "Good night."

"Good night." Anais headed back to the house, Geralt close behind.

As late as it was, Olivia wasn't tired just yet. She planned to make an early start as well, but there was much to consider before then — none of which, she had to admit, she had seriously considered before now, though the possibility now seemed glaringly, almost stupidly obvious. But did the _possibility_ measure up to the _probability?_

She sat by the pond, alone, for a while longer, plotting and planning and pondering, before returning to the house and climbing into bed, leaving her window open to better hear the sounds of the living night.

o~O~o

The next morning, immediately following breakfast, everyone finished packing their things. Anais, of course, insisted on checking each room one last time just to be sure nothing was left behind. (This time, she found one of Alistair's socks under the bed, and Geralt's favorite ball in Sten's room.)

Outside, she was about to rejoin her group when she realized she had almost forgotten someone.

Her face flushed as she thought of Olivia; of course she had been planning to say goodbye to her as well, but in the chaos of packing and preparing to head out, she just hadn't remembered. Come to think of it, she realized, she hadn't even seen Olivia after breakfast. She frowned, puzzled. Where could she have gone?

"Anais!"

The dwarf's head snapped up at the sound of her name. She saw Olivia running from the front of the manor towards her, dressed and armored, her distinct features bearing a look of worry that quickly dissolved into relief as their eyes met. She smiled as Olivia closed the last few feet between them.

"Glad I caught you!" Olivia said, returning Anais's smile as she caught her breath.

"I was wondering where you were," Anais replied, glad that Olivia seemed to want to say goodbye as well.

"Sorry about that," Olivia said. "I…had some personal things to take care of."

Anais shrugged. "No need to apologize. I –" She hesitated for a moment, then spoke again. "I'm just glad to see you again, that's all. I really enjoyed our talk last night."

She didn't expect the warm smile Olivia gave her in response. "I did, too." Before the moment could get too heavy, Olivia quickly asked, "So, what are your plans?"

"Well, before this little diversion, we were on our way to Denerim for supplies and a few other tasks we need to complete. Shouldn't be more than a day or so there. Then, we've decided to investigate an old Warden stronghold to the northeast. After that…we'll see, won't we?" Anais smiled a little. "I've learned sometimes you shouldn't plan more than a week ahead. Chances are anything past that will go completely awry."

"Isn't that the truth?" Olivia concurred.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Anais…" Olivia started, then quickly inhaled a nervous breath before continuing. "There's something I'd like to ask of you."

Anais looked at her curiously. "Sure, go ahead."

"I –" Another deep breath, then the human woman went on, "I'd like to join you on your quest."

Anais was too stunned to speak. Of all the requests she had been expecting, that had not even been a fleeting notion of a possibility.

"You – want to come with us?" she said slowly, her mind still attempting to process just what the other woman was asking of her.

Olivia nodded. "Yes, more than anything. Please listen." She went on quickly, "I know, I know, I would just be another mouth to feed, another body to keep track of. But I could be of use to you. You've seen what I can do with a sword and shield. And I have other skills you haven't seen; I'm decent with a crossbow, and I know a little about poison-making. And most of all…I can help you get an in with the nobles."

"You can?" Anais asked somewhat foolishly. She had to admit, aside from Leliana, that wasn't a talent any of their current party members possessed. Leliana had a silver tongue when it came to talking with nobles, but she had only a passing familiarity with their social networks.

Olivia must have anticipated what Anais was thinking, for she nodded. "Yes, I know you have your bard, and I'm sure she's an asset. But I've spent my life around the people you'll need to deal with. Politics will win this fight just as much as weapons, and I know both. I'll carry my own belongings and even find my own food if that would help. Please, let me come with you."

Anais thought carefully, slowly absorbing every last bit of the breathless outburst. "You make a good case, but I'll need some more information." At Olivia's eager nod, she asked, "Why not just set off on your own if you want to leave?"

"I…" Olivia paused, biting her lip before continuing. "You're right, I could go on my own. I could have left anytime, really. But, to be honest…I think I was always a little afraid to. I can take care of myself, but this is the first time I've really been on my own. I didn't know where I would go or what I would do once I left here, so I decided to just stay until I came up with a plan. That was…a while ago. But if I go with you, I'll have a path to follow until I can make my own, whenever that might be."

Her gaze darkened briefly as she added, "And that alone might give me a better chance at stopping Howe myself."

"What about your brother?"

Olivia shook her head. "I've given it a lot of thought, and I've decided not to worry about him for the time being. Even if I did find him, he probably isn't in any position to help." She bit her lip before continuing. "They were all supposed to have perished at Ostagar, anyway."

Anais looked at her with a half-smile. "Not all of us."

Olivia returned her smile with a wry one of her own. "Point. Even so, I have nothing to go on as to his location, and he's more than capable of taking care of himself. Howe, on the other hand…" Her fists clenched, color vanishing from the knuckles. " _Him_ , I can find. And him, _I_ can take care of."

Anais nodded. "All right. You seem to have thought this through. But I need to ask you one more question: if, for some reason, you can't have your revenge, what happens then?"

Olivia was quiet, but only for a moment before she answered, "Then I accept it, and I have my revenge in living the best life I can, and honoring my parents' memories every day – the one thing Howe can never take away."

Anais raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise. This was quite a turnaround from the bitter, vengeful young woman she had met two days prior. Before her was a calmer, more focused person, with a higher purpose than her own murderous desires.

"All right. Thank you for your honesty. I'll have to talk it over with the others, of course, but I doubt most of them will need much convincing. At any rate, they've all agreed to abide by my decisions and are welcome to leave if they don't like it. So –" Anais began to grin "– Lady Cousland, welcome to our ragtag bunch of misfits."

"Thank you, thank you, Lady Aeducan!" Olivia took Anais's hand and squeezed it gratefully. "I'll never be able to repay you enough. You don't know what this means to me."

"Giving you a second chance?" Anais replied with a quiet smile. "I might have some idea."

Olivia returned her smile. "Yes…yes, perhaps you do."

"Well, since we're leaving soon, I'll just give you a quick rundown of the basics. We all generally take turns with what needs doing – cooking, polishing armor, managing supplies – so we'll figure out a place in the order for you."

"A place in the order," Olivia echoed, more to herself than Anais, making the other woman smile. "Is there anything in particular I'll need to bring?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Only what you think you will. Food would be a great help. You have armor and weapons, you'll receive your own portion of our treasury to spend as you wish, and we have an extra tent and bedroll you are welcome to."

"Really? How come?"

Anais's mouth curved in a sly grin. "I found out I'm much happier not sleeping alone."

Olivia noticed Anais's sidelong glance at her templar companion some distance away, and as one the two women laughed.

"I'm going to go talk to the others now while you pack up. Do you have any other questions, Olivia?"

"No, not right now." Olivia shook her head. "But…I just want to say one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Please…call me Liv."

Anais began to grin. "Liv, eh? Well, I think I can get used to that. I'm guessing not everyone calls you that?"

Olivia's soft smile broadened then. "Only my friends."

As predicted, most of the group didn't raise any serious objections to Olivia's joining them. Sten and Morrigan questioned and complained at first, but once Anais assured them that Olivia would be pulling her own weight and had even offered to hunt her own food, they acquiesced, albeit grudgingly. (Sten in particular could not quite seem to wrap his head around the idea of there now being _three_ female warriors in their group; Anais knew he still had a lot to learn about Ferelden.)

It was only a minute or two before Olivia came out of the mansion with her full pack in hand. Anais raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Either Olivia was a speedy packer, or there was one more reason she was grateful Anais had said yes.

The company, now numbering nine, made their way back to the road. It was a beautiful day out, in contrast to the one when they had arrived. Olivia's eyes were as bright and clear as the cloudless sky overhead.

She looked down at her leader, and Anais's optimistic smile mirrored her own.

" _Dear fellow traveler_

 _Under the moon_

 _I think I'm growing weary and I'm hoping you'll come soon_

 _And if I see you_

 _In clean new clothes_

 _I hope you hold the mirror up to show me what I chose."_

~ _"Dear Fellow Traveler", Sea Wolf_

* * *

 _ _Thank you to Sea Wolf for the awesome song that inspired this story's title, and much of the mood I wanted to create._ And if you're wondering if there will be The Further Adventures of Anais and Liv — well, no definite plans, but I'm not ruling it out. ;) I do know how their story ends (up through _Origins _, anyway), but whether or not any more of it will be told remains to be seen. Please feel free to ask if you're curious! Thank you all for reading. :)  
_


End file.
